by M. Z. Kelly
King tugged at the sleeves of his shirt. “You might try Coco’s mother…she came to the shoots a couple of times.” He paused, his gaze drifting away. He looked back at me. “Michelle. Yes, that’s it. I think she lives in Inglewood. She and Coco are very close.”
I nodded to Gluck who finally got the message, pulled out a notepad, and wrote down the information. “And Leila?”
“Last I heard she bought a place up in Montecito.”
“Near Santa Barbara?”
He nodded. “The divorce set her up pretty well.”
I thanked him and then got down to the real reason we were there. “We found Mr. Biggs’ cell phone last night. There were several calls made to him on the day of his death. One from you just after three that afternoon.”
He nodded again but his expression didn’t change. “I called him about that possible co-listing I mentioned. He didn’t answer and I didn’t leave a message, thinking I would probably see him the next day.”
“Why didn’t you mention this before when we talked?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t think about it until you just mentioned it.” He smiled in a way that was meant to be disarming but came off to me as practiced. “Realtors live on the phone, Detective. I make so many calls that I hardly remember half of them.”
I wasn’t going to cut him any slack. “But this was a call to a murder victim on the day he died.”
He splayed his hands in a dismissive gesture. “I’m sorry if it looks…insensitive…”
“More like intentional,” Gluck said, interrupting and purposely taking a bad cop role.
King’s eyes narrowed on my partner, the pitch in his voice lifting. “There was nothing intentional about it. It was…something I just forgot about.”
“Just like you forgot to tell us about your financial dealings with Biggs,” Gluck said, his face stony and serious.
“What are you talking about?”
“Casey Ross told us that Biggs needed money and was trying to collect from you.”
“If I’d known that I certainly would have given him the money. Jiggy never said anything about it to me.”
“But you did owe him money?” I asked.
“Yes, but it was nothing really.”
“How many zeros does nothing have in it?” Gluck asked. His new effort at acting like a real cop impressed me.
“It was just a couple hundred thousand.”
“That’s more than nothing.”
“Not in this business.” King hissed out a breath. “Listen. Jiggy and I had a couple of properties we’d invested in together. I owed him…” He paused, scratching behind his ear. “It was about $220,000 from one of those deals. It was something he knew that I was good for. If he’d asked me about it I would have given him the money in a heartbeat.” His gaze swung over to me, probably looking for confirmation, something he wasn’t about to get from me.
We went at him for another twenty minutes but got nothing more. We were about to leave when I turned back to him and asked, “Where were you last night?”
He smiled, making another attempt at being disarming. “Was there another murder and I need an alibi?”
I shook my head and didn’t smile, waiting. He finally said, “I had a business meeting with a client from New York. She and I had dinner at The Bridge.”
I finally smiled. It was my attempt at being disarming. “Great place. Have a good day.”
On the way to our car, I turned to Gluck and said, “Jerry King is a liar.”
CHAPTER NINE
“Jerry King said he was having dinner with a real estate client last night,” I said to Natalie as Mo drove us to our new house the next morning. The movers were finishing loading up our furniture and planned to meet us at the house in about an hour. My sister Lindsay wasn’t scheduled to move in with us for a couple of days. “Didn’t Jerry tell you he was seeing his sick mother?”
“Fraid so.” Natalie sighed. “After what you just told me it sounds more like he was meeting a hot mother, and I’m not talkin’ ‘bout someone with a fever. Maybe I should back outta the Laugh Factory date.”
“Baby sis is starting to have the same bad luck you used to have with men,” Mo said from the front seat of her convertible Caddie as Bernie lapped up the exotic scents of Hollywood from the backseat next to me. I’d noticed that Mo had recovered from her facial, other than her skin still looking a little pale and lumpy.
“I think I need me a cowboy,” Natalie said, smiling over at me from the front passenger seat. “Maybe your friend, Buck, knows somebody?”
“I’ll ask him,” I said, at the same time wondering when I would be able to see Buck again. With everything that had happened, it seemed like our romantic night at his ranch had been a long time ago. We’d talked on the phone a couple of times since that night about getting together but our plans were unsettled.
“Speaking of hook-ups,” Mo said over her shoulder. “Word has it on the street that Jiggy Biggs was gett’n Jiggy with a lot of friendly friends if you know what I mean. You might wanna check that out.”
I was about to warn them again to stay out of the case but decided it was a losing battle. “Do you have any names?”
Mo shook her head. “All I heard is that he liked the club scene and women who were rich and well connected.”
What she’d said covered a lot of ground, especially in Hollywood. We’d finally gotten addresses for both his girlfriend and his ex-wife late yesterday and planned to meet with them this afternoon. Lieutenant Edna was still in a panic about the chief taking over our case, so I knew we needed to shake something loose.
I noticed that the road began twisting and turning as we got closer to our new digs. The area was an expensive enclave of older, rambling homes on large lots. It occurred to me that we’d be lucky to afford the rent on one of the garages, let alone one of the homes.
“I still don’t understand how we can afford to live up here,” I said to Mo as she slowed her big boat of a car down. “These are multi-million dollar estates.”
“We got lucky,” Mo said. “When Russell Van Drake went belly up a few months back and the house got tied up in court, that attorney we mentioned, Barnabas Farnsworth, got us a deal. Cheap rent as long as we do a little upkeep and take care of the place ‘til the estate is settled.”
“Mo and me agreed to so some housework,” Natalie said. “You know, just run the vac now and again, flush the commodes. Stuff like that.”
I looked at her. “Just so you know I’m not very good at mowing lawns or trimming hedges, and I…” Mo pulled the Caddie into the circular driveway of what I realized must be our new home. My mouth fell open as I tried to come to terms with what I was seeing. I finally managed to mumble, “Are you kidding me?”
“Home sweet home,” Mo said, stopping the car in a driveway that was lined with hedges that looked like they hadn’t been trimmed in a couple of years. She got out of the car and stretched out her big frame that was covered in lime green spandex. Natalie and Bernie were also out of the car but I remained seated, dumbfounded, or maybe just paralyzed, by our surroundings.
“Come on, Kate,” Mo said, opening the rear passenger door. “Welcome to Ravenswood Manor.”
I got out of the car and took a moment, letting my gaze sweep over the house and grounds. Ravenswood was a massive stone and ivy covered residence with a steep vaulted roof, pointed stained glass windows, towers, verandas, and ornate wood trim—all of it in a state of such disrepair that it looked like it was on the verge of falling down.
Beyond the house, I saw there was a magnificent view of Hollywood, partially obstructed by an overgrowth of trees, hedges, and crumbling stone terraces. I had the impression that I’d walked into a scene from eighteenth century England after a war had devastated a once impressive estate.
“Kinda reminds me of Hogwarts Academy,” Natalie offered, scrunching up her nose. Maybe she was getting a good look at the place for the first time.
I turned to her. “Y
eah, only a drearier version that I’m not sure even Harry Potter and his magic wand could fix. You said this place was owned by an actor?”
“Russell Van Drake. I heard the bloke was a real ladies man.”
“You would be correct,” we heard a man’s voice say. I turned and saw there was an elderly gentleman in a dark suit walking toward the residence.
“This is Barnabas Farnsworth,” Mo said introducing me to the attorney for the estate. Farnsworth was probably in his sixties with a full head of gray hair, dark eyes, and the bearing of someone who was or maybe thought he was an aristocrat.
After some small talk, that included Farnsworth turning up his nose at Bernie, we got a little history of the estate.
“The residence was constructed during what one might think of as Hollywood’s gilded or perhaps golden age,” the attorney explained. “It’s been the former residence of some of the movie studio’s legendary stars.” He turned to Natalie. “As you referenced earlier, the most recent occupant was Russell Van Drake. He was declared legally dead about six months ago.” Farnsworth’s dark eyes swept over the house and grounds. “I’m afraid there’s been a bit of deferred maintenance in recent years.”
I couldn’t help myself and said, “It looks like it’s ready to fall down.”
The attorney smiled. His brows inched up and he tipped his head forward, maybe in agreement. “That’s where you and your friends come in.”
“What?”
Farnsworth looked at Mo and Natalie. “I made the terms of the lease quite explicit. Didn’t you tell her?”
“Tell me what?” I demanded, looking at them. Natalie and Mo glanced at one another, their conspiratorial look reminding me of Lucy and Ethel.
“Like I mentioned on the way up here, we have to do a little upkeep,” Natalie said. “It’s no big deal.”
“Not if you’ve got a bulldozer,” I said looking back at the sprawling, dilapidated house.
Farnsworth reached into his satchel and pulled out a thick stack of papers. He handed them to me. “These are the conditions of your lease. It’s already been signed by your friends. Just be sure that you adhere to everything so there are no repercussions.” He handed Mo the keys to the place. “Let’s step inside and I’ll give you a brief orientation to the residence.”
Mo turned the key in the lock and the front door creaked open. She took a step forward but her mound of red hair ran into a spider web.
“Damn it,” Mo bellowed. She reached up and removed her wig, holding it like a linebacker who had just removed a helmet. She turned to Natalie, “Guess we got us a little more work to do than we originally thought, baby sis.”
“It’s just a cobweb,” Natalie said. “No big deal.”
“Yeah, spun by some giant tarantula,” I said. I found a stick on the ground and worked at removing the massive spider web.
Once inside we found the interior of the sprawling home was dark and musty. I had trouble getting my bearings until Farnsworth hit a light switch. I heard a sudden noise near a large rock fireplace and had the impression it might be a mouse or something even bigger scurrying off.
The great room had an impressive vaulted ceiling and pointed windows that looked out on the dreary landscape. The walls were made of stone, the floors polished, or I should say unpolished, hardwood. A kitchen, that looked like it hadn’t been remodeled since the 1940’s, was adjacent to the living area.
“The residence is considered one of the finest reproductions of gothic architecture in the United States,” Farnsworth said, sounding like a tour guide. “You’ll find there are decorative wall patterns, finials, scallops, and ornate moldings throughout.”
“Not to mention a few rats,” I said, referencing the earlier sounds I’d heard.
Mo turned to me. She had her red wig in place again. “What’d you say?”
I lied, “I said maybe there’s a cat or two running about.”
Farnsworth continued, “The living quarters has a dining room with a fireplace, a library, a billiard room, a screening room, and an exercise wing with its own bath. Upstairs, you’ll find a split wing with six bedrooms, each with a private bath. There’s also a guest house directly adjacent to the pool as well as a carriage house over the garage.”
I looked out the window and saw there was a ramshackle building with a pool of stagnant green water. My sprits sank even further. Even if we had six months and thousands of dollars we’d never be able to get the place in shape. I had an errant thought about living with my mother which only deepened my depression.
My mom had just returned to Hollywood after spending a few weeks with her sister. Mom was a New Age artist, of a sort, who liked to participate in street demonstrations—in the nude. My mother had bonded with Bubba over the past few days and asked to keep him on a permanent basis. I’d agreed, at the same time hoping that Bernie’s love puppy wouldn’t be too traumatized by his new living arrangements.
“This place is the bomb,” Natalie said, clapping her hands in excitement. “Can’t wait ‘til we have our first party here.”
Mo was apparently adjusting to the reality of our new surroundings. “Yeah, maybe we can invite some werewolves and a couple of zombies.”
Farnsworth smiled. “Oh, that reminds me. There’s a wine cellar and a basement downstairs.” He turned toward the door. I had the impression that he was now in a hurry to leave. He turned back to me at the door, “Be sure to read everything in the lease agreement. You’re expected to comply with all requirements outlined therein to the letter.” He said his goodbyes and left.
I brushed a hand through my hair and exhaled. “Maybe we should check out the upstairs bedrooms. It’s got to get better.”
We were all on the massive circular stairway that led upstairs when I heard a swooshing sound and saw something moving through the air in my peripheral vision.
“It’s a bat,” Natalie screamed.
The flying creature swooped down, coming within a few inches of us. It made a screeching sound and in a high-pitched voice said, “Fuck-you. Go away.”
“What in the hell,” I yelled, swinging a hand out as the thing flew away and Bernie let out a menacing growl.
“That ain’t no bat,” Mo said as the flying creature moved off and disappeared into the darkness. “It’s all spelled out in the lease.”
“What are you talking about?” I demanded.
“The raven’s name is Maurice. It was Van Drake’s pet. We gotta let it be as long as we live here.”
My gaze darted around the great room beneath us. The crazed bird seemed to have disappeared into the shadows. “You mean we’ve got to live here with a cursing raven?”
Mo lifted her big shoulders, released them. “At least it ain’t no bat with rabies. It could be a lot worse.”
“Yeah, Kate, lighten up,” Natalie said. “Just think of Maurice as a family pet.”
“A dive-bombing bird that says fuck-you. Really?”
They both moved on up the stairs, grumbling about me being fussy and judgmental. I reluctantly followed with Bernie, scanning the darkness for Maurice as we creaked our way up the steps. At the landing we came to a long dark hallway with what looked like several expensive paintings hung on the walls.
I then saw there were also at least a dozen full sized bronze figures lining the hallway. In the darkened passageway the figures looked imposing and reminded me of those terra cotta warriors I’d seen in pictures. As we got closer, they made the warriors look tame by comparison. I realized they were gargoyles, some with ornate heads that represented monkeys, lions, and something else that looked non-human.
“I heard that Van Drake fellow was into monsters and demons,” Mo said, surveying the gargoyles with a grimace. “These guys are a little creepy.”
Natalie went over and danced around one of the figures. “They’re the bomb, Mo.” She pulled out her cell phone and shot a couple of selfies with her new demonic friends. I decided it probably wouldn’t be too long before Natalie was also feedi
ng our cursing raven.
“Since you gotta gun and a dog, Kate, maybe you should lead the way,” Mo said after Natalie came back over to us. “I think you should shoot first and ask questions later.”
Bernie looked up at me and whined, maybe wondering what we’d gotten into. My big dog seemed to lag behind as I took a couple of steps forward.
“I read me a little history on that Van Drake bloke,” Natalie said, obviously unaffected by our dreary surroundings. “According to all the gossip rags, instead of a brain, he had a giant penis between his ears.”
“Sounds like your typical guy,” Mo said, as we continued down the hallway.
Natalie went on, “Rumor has it that Van Drake had dozens of affairs, even hooked up with that actress who went missing ‘bout three years ago.”
What she’d said started to click with me. “Are you talking about Bridget Welch?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. There were some rumors that the Demon Master cut her up into little pieces and buried her somewhere.”
“The demon what?”
“Where you been, Kate?” Mo said, at the same time taking a hard look at one of the gargoyles that had wings and a scowl on its face. “The Demon Master was Van Drake’s most famous role.”
“A shape-shifting, soul-sucking monster,” Natalie confirmed. “Could be that one of the demons finally got the bloke and sucked out his brain.”
“I’m not sure what you mean?” I said as we stopped at the bedroom door.
“What are you, a homicide cop who sleeps on the job?” Mo asked. “Van Drake went missing about three years ago, just after Bridget Welch, and was just declared legally dead. It’s been in all the newspapers and on TV.”
I now remembered reading something about him. I thought maybe I’d been on vacation when the actor had gone missing and had only glanced at the newspaper accounts. I stopped in the hallway at the first bedroom door and turned to my friends. “Ready?”
They nodded and I pushed the creaking door open. I gasped as we all looked over and saw there was a man asleep in the bed.